


The Transfer

by Angelcosmo



Category: Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Established Relationship, Fluff and Angst, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Post-Canon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-09
Updated: 2018-07-09
Packaged: 2019-06-07 19:35:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,546
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15226359
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Angelcosmo/pseuds/Angelcosmo
Summary: They’re sending you a what?”Aziraphale drained the dregs from his wineglass and refilled it, all without taking his eyes off Crowley. The demon had decided to forgo the middleman entirely and was nursing a bottle of something expensive.“A ‘transfer student’!” Crowley groaned, taking a swig. “First time topside. Apparently I’ve been doing such a good job lately someone down there decided I’d be the perfect candidate to teach the kid how things work.”Or: Why Crowley now owes a teenage demon a debt.





	The Transfer

> “They’re sending you a  _ what?” _

 

Aziraphale drained the dregs from his wineglass and refilled it, all without taking his eyes off Crowley. The demon had decided to forgo the middleman entirely and was nursing a bottle of something expensive.

 

“A ‘ _ transfer student’!”  _ Crowley groaned, taking a swig. “First time topside. Apparently I’ve been doing such a good job lately  _ someone  _ down there decided I’d be the perfect candidate to teach the kid how things work.”

 

Aziraphale pondered this for a moment. “I don’t approve.” He said finally. Crowley was one of the few demons he’d met that genuinely understood humans, and while that saved him from being annoyingly inept (and, Aziraphale admitted, gave him hope for his friend) it also made him  _ effective _ . Him teaching his tricks to some young monster fresh out of Hell with no care for the world and humanity or regard for the Arrangement wasn’t something Aziraphale wanted to have to deal with.

 

Crowley threw up his hands in a defeated shrug. “What am I supposed to do about it? I didn’t  _ ask  _ for this you know. I prefer working alone. I can’t stand these fourteenth century minds.”  He took a long drink from his bottle and then cracked a wry smile. “They’re coming tomorrow morning. You can tag along if you like. Maybe you’ll be a  _ good influence  _ on them.” That last bit dropped into a sneer.

 

Aziraphale took no notice of his sarcasm. He swirled his drink around his glass thoughtfully. “Yes, that  _ has _ worked out in the past…” he murmured, words accompanied by a small smirk.

 

Crowley choked on his drink. He sputtered and hoped his coughing fit would excuse any blushing that may or may not have occurred. As soon as he’d recovered he quickly changed the subject. “Er, I think you were going to tell me about a new book you got?”

 

~~~~~

 

Crowley didn’t know what he’d expected from Lorelei.

 

A 5”4’ ball of wicked enthusiasm dressed like the human personification of a Hot Topic certainly hadn’t been it, but you made do with what you got.

 

She’d arrived at his flat early that morning. He’d gone about getting ready for the day while offhandedly teaching her about such wonders as electricity and indoor plumbing. She’d trailed behind him like a St. James’ Park duckling, drinking in every bit of information. Then they’d made their way outside (he’d barely managed to keep her from incinerating his neighbor’s cat) and now they were seated in the Bentley, speeding through London. The silence was interrupted every few seconds by questions from his new apprentice. He supposed he should be pleased; she was willing to be taught, which was nice and certainly not a given for demons, and there was something endearing about her eagerness, but by the twelfth time she’d asked when they’d get to tempt someone or destroy some property he was about ready to toss her out of the car.

 

“Look, kid. What we do is an art.” He said calmly, forcing himself to keep his cool. “Art is all about breaking rules, but you have to understand the rules first before you know which ones  _ need _ breaking. Have some patience.”

 

“But patience is a  _ virtue!”   _ She said, looking extremely concerned.

 

This was going to be a long day.

 

He barely managed to keep himself from sending up a prayer of thanks as he pulled the Bentley up in front of the familiar Soho bookshop. He got out of the car and strolled up to the door, Lorelei quickly following suit. Her eyes flashed and she grinned happily as she spied the  _ Sorry, We’re Closed - Please Come Back Soon   _ sign hanging on the door. “Are we gonna break in?” She asked, practically vibrating with giddy energy.

 

Crowley knocked on the door. “No, we’re picking someone up.”

 

After a few moments the door creaked open and Aziraphale stepped out. “Hallo,” he greeted with a cheery smile and a small wave, though his shoulders were noticeably tensed.

 

“Hallo Aziraphale.” Crowley responded, smiling a little too broadly. “Ready to spend a day training a demon?” 

 

Aziraphale laughed uncomfortably. Lorelei, who had also been looking rather uncomfortable, grabbed Crowley’s arm and dragged him to the side. “That’s an  _ angel!”  _ She hissed.

 

“Yes.” Crowley drawled.

 

“You just told him our plans!”

 

“Yes.”

 

She stared at him in horrified confusion. “What the Hell is wrong with you?”

 

Crowley sighed. He knew she’d be able to sense Aziraphale’s divine energy and had been planning his explanation since the night before. “He’s an idiot. He actually believes we’re friends. He won’t do a thing to stop us. I could tell him every plan Hell has and I’d probably learn more from him than he would from me.” He leaned in close, dropping his voice to a whisper. “Just between you and me, I think I have a chance of turning him.”

 

Lorelei’s eyes lit up in understanding and she grinned and nodded her approval. “Wow, they said you were good, but I had no idea.”

 

Crowley smiled.

 

By the time they returned to the car Aziraphale had already settled himself in the passenger seat. Lorelei was incensed. “That’s my seat!” 

 

“Seniority.” Aziraphale stated simply.

 

Lorelei huffed and climbed in the back seat. Crowley slid behind the wheel and the engine roared to life.

 

Aziraphale turned to him. “Where to first?”

 

~~~~~

 

They spent the morning driving around the city, filling Lorelei in on the intricacies of modern life and human interaction (Aziraphale casually throwing in the importance of  _ kindness _ whenever possible. He probably thought he was being sneaky. To any normal person he wouldn’t have been, but with the amount of subtlety Lorelei had displayed Crowley had to admit he might have a chance). Lorelei had mellowed somewhat; his art analogy seemed to have taken the edge off her anxiousness to stir up trouble, but by the time they stopped for a late lunch at an outdoor cafe she was growing impatient again. 

 

“I have to do  _ something  _ evil!” She complained over a grilled cheese and tomato soup. “I feel I’ll just explode if I don’t! This is the longest I’ve gone…”

 

Crowley pinched the bridge of his nose.  _ The headache you’re giving me is pretty evil.  _ He looked around. “There’s a church just down the road. We might be able to have some fun there. After lunch of course.”

 

She brightened up considerably. “Oooh! I’ve never met a holy person before! Are we going to cause the righteous to stumble? Have a crisis of faith? Renounce God?!”

 

“Of  _ course  _ not.” Crowley looked at Aziraphale and rolled his eyes. “Fourteenth century minds.” He muttered.

 

Lorelei looked confused. “What would we do, then?”

 

Crowley folded his hands in front of him and smiled. This was his area. “You have to think  _ bigger,  _ Lorelei. The world’s not just villages and tribes anymore. So we get a righteous man to do a sin. He’ll just repent and that’s that. Put a little more effort into it and get someone to get so mad at God they throw in the towel because  _ That’ll show ‘im!  _ Congratulations. You got one soul amongst billions. Nonononono. It’s  _ so  _ much more effective to  _ per _ vert than  _ con _ vert. Everyone feels they’re so much worse than other people, so they do their damnedest to make sure everyone knows how much  _ better  _ they are. Religion is such a convenient excuse for that sort of thing - one of my greatest achievements - it can justify so damn much it’s ridiculous. People will do such terrible things to each other, things simple demons like ourselves couldn’t  _ dream  _ of, and think they’re completely in the right!” He leaned in, serpentine grin breaking across his face. “And the best part? It’s barely any work at all. All you need to make is a spark. They’ll create the inferno all on their own, because they  _ want  _ to. Instead of one soul being lead astray, you have a handful of souls committing atrocities in the name of Good, and  _ millions  _ bearing witness.” 

 

“Really?” Lorelei asked breathlessly, with the look of a kid who’d asked for a pony for their birthday and received a unicorn. Aziraphale, on the other hand, looked like he’d just taken several punches to the gut.  _ Oh damn… _

 

“Of course not.” Crowley said quickly. “You really need to learn how to take a joke. Now go on, go… oh I don’t know, make some salacious comments to a nun or something.” He waved her off.

 

Lorelei stayed frozen, confusion written across her face. He slid down his sunglasses so she could see his eyes glow red. “ _ Scram. _ ” He growled. She quickly ran off to obey him.

 

Now that the two men were alone the silence was deafening. Crowley shifted uncomfortably, staring down into his untouched meal. After a moment he felt he had to either speak up or drown. “Come now, you know I’m right.”

 

Aziraphale looked away. “I do.” He whispered, the sadness and pain in his voice breaking a heart Crowley hadn’t realized he possessed.  “I know people are like that and I know it’s your job, but do you have to be  _ SO BLOODY PROUD OF IT?!?” _

 

Crowley flinched away from the angel’s sudden fury. Shame wasn’t something he was accustomed to, but the stabbing sensation in the pit of his stomach couldn’t have been anything else. 

 

Aziraphale glanced awkwardly around at the cafe’s other patrons, who had all turned to stare at him after his outburst. He pulled up the collar of his coat to protect himself from the prying eyes and cleared his throat. “Forgive me for yelling. And swearing.” He said, and Crowley very much doubted it was directed at him. “And forgive me for judging others before considering my own faults. I have a fair bit of pride myself, so I suppose it’s rather unfair of me to look down on someone for being a smug, contemptuous  _ bastard.”  _ He mumbled through gritted teeth. “And for swearing again.”

 

Crowley cowered in his seat, feeling just about as small as he ever had. “Aziraphale,” he murmured wretchedly. “I… I’m sorry-”

 

“How much of it is you?” Asked the angel.

 

“Throughout history?” He shrugged pathetically. “Hard to tell. Like I said; people do it on their own.”

 

Aziraphale nodded slowly, then stood and reached into his pocket, pulling out enough money for all three meals plus a sizeable tip. “I’ll get us some boxes.” He muttered. As he began to leave he placed a hand on Crowley’s shoulder. “I… I understand, you know. It’s part of the deal, always has been. I just wish… You could be so brilliant if…” He shook his head. “Crowley?”

 

“Yeah?”

 

“Once I get back, I want you to take me home.”

 

“Of course.”

 

Aziraphale turned and went back inside the restaurant to pay their bill, leaving Crowley sitting at the small table, contemplating what had just happened.

 

This was going to take some sorting out.

 

~~~~~

 

“Sorting out” meaning, as it usually did, getting absolutely plastered.

 

The car ride had been weird. If Lorelei had felt the waves of uncomfortable energy emanating from the two beings in the front seats it had had no effect on her as she rambled on and on about her short misadventure. Crowley had kept his eyes straight ahead, focused on the road, lost in thought. The one glance he’d cast to the passenger seat had shown him that Aziraphale had his head bowed and hands folded in his lap; seemingly in prayer. Spats like that weren’t new to them; they’d had many over the past six thousand years. It came with the territory. It’d blow over soon enough because quite frankly neither of them could last terribly long without the other’s company. But that didn’t make the meantime any easier.

 

Once they’d dropped Aziraphale off Lorelei climbed back into the front seat and the two carried on pretty much as they had that morning. Every once in a while they’d pull over so Lorelei could cause some mischief, but Crowley made sure to limit it to fairly harmless things. With that concession made to her Lorelei became the perfect student. It had been late in the evening when he’d dropped her off at the flat that had been set up for her. He’d helped her get settled and left her with strict instructions not to cause any mayhem without consulting him first. He’d then returned to his own flat and spent several minutes pacing the floor and venting his frustrations to the terrified houseplants before grabbing the phone.

 

“Listen, angel. I know you’re outraged and I suppose you have a right to be. Kind of a sore spot and all. I can be a right bastard when you get down to it and I’m sorry about that. But you’ve got to be as miserable as I am and you know as well as I do we’ll make up eventually. Why not when I’ve got some bottles of liquor with our names on ‘em?”

 

There was silence from the other end of the line for a few moments, and Crowley had begun to worry he’d imagined hearing the phone be picked up, but finally there came a weary sigh. “To err is human. To forgive, divine.” The angel quoted softly. There was another pause and another sigh and “I’ll be there in twenty.”

 

And so they’d spent the night as they had so many other nights when their jobs and their differences got too Real and they needed a break in the tension. The booze improved both their spirits fairly quickly and they soon found themselves wrapped in their typical half-nonsensical arguments about nothing in particular. It felt nice. Maybe not  _ quite  _ as nice as full forgiveness, but that took admitting you were in the wrong, and that’s a difficult matter when you’re on opposing sides of a war from the person whose forgiveness you want, so this did just nicely.

 

So now they were sprawled across Crowley’s white leather sofa surrounded by enough empty bottles to make the liver of the thirstiest human boozehound tremble in fear, mumbling incoherent things at each other. Crowley vaguely registered that his face was nuzzling against something soft. It took him a moment to figure out that it was Aziraphale’s neck.

 

“What’re y’doin’?” The angel sputtered.

 

Crowley had to ponder that a bit. “‘Smell nice.” He finally decided.

 

“‘Smell like booze ya moron.” Aziraphale corrected.

 

Not one to listen to corrections, Crowley flicked out his tongue. “‘ _ Taste  _ nice.” He added. 

 

Aziraphale smacked him gently on the side of the head. “Duntcha go gettin’ fresh with me.” He warned playfully.

 

“Wouldn’t dream of it.” Crowley muttered, finding the bottom hem of Aziraphale’s shirt and slipping his hand up under it.

 

Aziraphale pushed him off and shifted so he could pin the demon against the back of the couch. He was grinning. “Thought I told’ja not t’ do that.”

 

Crowley opened his mouth to respond, but before he could he found it being occupied by a tongue that wasn’t his.

 

_ Oh.  _ Cool.

 

He leaned forward to deepen the kiss, one hand snaking up to tangle in the angel’s soft curls, the other grabbing hold of some other part of his body. He wasn’t sure what part; they were all soft after all, so they felt the same, and he didn’t have enough brain power left to investigate further. Aziraphale cupped his cheeks in both hands, squeezing harder than he probably meant to but Crowley didn’t care. He was starting to feel like he didn’t want the angel on top of him anymore though. Something in the back of his mind pinged a memory that there was  _ something  _ that he should be apologizing for, and that he should let Aziraphale have this, but if he’d been making good decisions he probably wouldn’t be here in the first place so that’s okay right? And so he pushed Aziraphale onto his back and climbed over him and Aziraphale didn’t seem to mind that at all and made a good good noise and bent his knee up under Crowley and that was  _ very  _ appreciated and his jacket was being tugged off of him and-

 

“Crowley? Crowley, are you here? I-”

 

All the alcohol in Crowley’s body evaporated instantly.

 

He propelled himself backwards with lightning speed and looked round to see Lorelei standing in the doorway, eyes wide as dinner plates.

 

“Uh, hi.” He offered lamely.

 

She turned and ran.

 

Aziraphale sat up, looking decidedly more sober than he had a moment ago. “Well, damn.”

 

~~~~~

 

Crowley willed his hair and clothing to straighten out and his sunglasses to reappear as he sped down the hallway. He was just in time to see the elevator close behind Lorelei. He’d shown her what they were earlier in the day and explained for convenience sake that they were superior to stairs, which was true in most cases, but in this the advantage went to the one who could run. He flew down the staircase to the ground floor of the complex and was waiting when the elevator doors slid open.

 

“Lorelei,” he began.

 

Lorelei squeaked and held up her fingers defensively in a cross shape. Crowley raised an eyebrow.

 

“What do you expect that to do?” He asked flatly.

 

Lorelei looked down at her hands and made a noise of frustration, then balled them into fists and dropped them to her sides. Her expression was mixed rage, fear, and just plain confusion.  _ “WHAT WAS THAT?!” _

 

Crowley fixed her with a deadpan glare. “What did it look like?”

 

She stared at him incredulously. Her mouth opened and closed wordlessly a couple of times before she was able to gather wits enough to formulate words.  _ “WHAT DID IT LOOK LIKE?!” _

 

“Keep it down!” Crowley hissed. “It’s the middle of the night. I do have neighbors to worry about.”

 

“ _ You’re worried about your  _ **_neighbors_ ** _ right now?!”  _ She said in a whisper that was as close to screaming as a whisper can get. “ _ You were about to… he’s an- an- an  _ **_angel_ ** _.”  _ She spat the word like a curse.

 

Crowley shrugged. “Yes, I know. So?”

 

“ _ You’re a  _ **_demon_ ** _.” _

 

_ “ _ I know that too. Your point?”

 

“ _ You can’t…  _ **_be_ ** _ together!” _

 

Crowley sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose. “I already explained our relationship to you.”

 

“ _ That _ was a bit more than making him think you’re friends.” She retorted. “You can’t have  _ feelings  _ for an  _ angel. _ ”

 

“Who said anything about  _ feelings?” _ Crowley scoffed. “Have you forgotten who you’re speaking to?” He allowed his lisp to sound and his forked tongue to flicker out. “I am the Serpent of Eden. Temptation, seduction, manipulation, it’s my  _ thing.  _ I get people to do what I want by telling them what they want to believe.” It was a brazen play; telling someone the methods he was about to use on them, but fortune favors the bold, or something. “I’d already been using him, if he wants to get all mushy-gushy about me who am I to stand in his way? I’m still in total control of the situation. In fact, it just puts him further under my thumb.” He finished confidently, lying through his teeth. 

 

She looked as though she was close to being convinced, but she wasn’t quite there yet. “B-But they’re our sworn enemies. We’re not supposed to even try to get close to ‘em.”

 

“ _ Exactly.”  _ Crowley purred in his smoothest, most convincing tone. “Do you know why you were sent to me? Because I’m the best they’ve got. And do you know why that is?” He let her ponder for a moment before continuing. “Because I will do  _ absolutely anything  _ to get what I want, even if that means breaking the rules of  _ Hell itself _ . And maybe sometimes that means acting like a person instead of just bringing ruin upon everyone and everything I see, and sometimes that means doing someone a good turn, and maybe sometimes that means fraternizing with the enemy. It doesn’t matter, because in the end,  _ I win. _ ” 

 

Her expression had grown from skepticism to awe as he spoke. “Wow.” She breathed. “And the Big Boys downstairs don’t mind?”

 

Crowley smiled. He had her. “What they don’t know can’t hurt them.”

 

She smirked, an appropriately devilish grin. “So they  _ don’t  _ know. And if they did, you’d be in trouble. Because you’re a rogue agent.” She took a step forward and jabbed her index finger into his chest. “Now, Crowley, there’s a secret that’s worth somethin’.”

 

It was Crowley’s turn to stare.

 

Visions of holy water danced in his head.

 

“I… I…” he stammered. 

 

She raised her finger to his lips. “Shh, your secrets are safe with me. Just remember you owe me, Anthony J Crowley.” She grinned at his bewildered expression. “Hey, you said do absolutely anything to get what you want. I’m what you call a fast learner.”

 

He watched her turn and skip out of the building, short brown ponytail bouncing along behind her. He blinked rapidly and shook his head, feeling as though he’d just awoken from a surreal dream. He’d been played like a fiddle. By a kid. Who’d only received the information necessary to do so moments beforehand.

 

He leaned back against the wall and let out a quiet, half-crazed laugh.

 

He really needed a drink.

**Author's Note:**

> First off, thanks for reading this story! This was written by my good good friend Neeley. She doesn’t have an Ao3 account, so she asked me to post this on mine. Good Omens is probably my favorite book now. She dragged me into it and now she’s dragging me into her fanfiction. 
> 
> I hope you all enjoyed reading!


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